


Crema Verse Prompt Fill #14

by twobirdsonesong



Series: Crema Verse [16]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Barista Blaine, Crema verse, Drabble, Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Prompt Fill, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:52:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>connerwishington asked you: omg i feel weird prompting because dont really know each other but i love the crema verse a lot anyway can you write kurts first interview/appearance/red carpet type soiree as a well-known designer??? :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crema Verse Prompt Fill #14

“You’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous.”  Kurt clasps his hands together between his knees, and then places them on his thighs and drums his fingers against the dark fabric of his pants.  He hasn’t stopped fidgeting for the twenty-five minutes it took to get from their home to the Condé Nast building.  He reaches up and adjusts the bowtie with a subtle herringbone pattern that’s knotted perfectly around his neck.  He must have tied and re-tied it five times standing in front of the mirror in their bedroom until Blaine came up behind him, pulled his hands away, and pressed a sweet kiss to his neck.

Kurt has reason to be nervous.  Tonight is the huge gala celebrating the debut of Blackbird Fly – his clothing line.

There are a thousand gorgeous, extravagant venues for events and parties in New York – hotels, libraries, parks – but Anna Wintour herself had offered the Vogue offices for Kurt’s fête.  He’s sure that Carrie had something to do with it, she must have, but the fact remains that he is something of Ms. Wintour’s protégé, as much as anyone is.  And what better location to commemorate his blossoming career than back at the place where it all began?  Kurt came from Vogue; it’s only fitting that they celebrate their own.  It was a shock to his system, for sure.  The Editor in Chief of Vogue is as chilly and distant as everyone says, but Ms. Wintour called him personally to inform him that his party would be thrown by his former employer.  Kurt remembers that he dropped the phone and Blaine had to kiss him to get him to breathe again.

“Your hands are shaking.”  Blaine reaches across and places a warm hand over Kurt’s ice-cold ones.  The band on his ring finger glimmers brightly in the dark car.

“I didn’t eat enough potassium today.  Find me a banana.”  The car, the  _limo_ , rolls to a gentle stop and Kurt’s heart surges even higher into his throat.  His pulse is racing and his palms are clammy even though his hands are cold.  Through the tinted windows he can see hordes of photographers and members of the media waiting.  His breath catches again when he remembers they’re waiting for  _him_.

“Kurt-” 

“I’m nervous.”  Kurt looks over at Blaine.  Blaine is staring at him with his huge honey-warm eyes – dazzling even in the darkness of the car – and his beautiful face is completely, utterly reassuring.  Kurt could not love him any more than he does.  He will never, ever get over the fact that this man is his.  Forever.

This party is for him.  The decorations, the music, the food, the  _everything_  is for him and him alone.  Well, and his little staff of insanely talented, hard-working people who deserve more credit than they’re going to get.  There will be fashion industry giants present – he knows Marc Jacobs and Donatella Versace are going to be there.  So are Carrie and Mr. Preston and their circle of friends.  And he’s sure there will be celebrities on hand as well (it’s a chance to get their photographs taken, after all), and Kurt hopes he can avoid embarrassing himself in front of any of them.  Cooper, of course, is several limos behind them, and dressed, as always, in one of Kurt’s suits.

Blaine leans in, presses a soft kiss to Kurt’s lips, and runs his fingers along the cool fabric of the bowtie.  “It’s ok to be nervous, this is  _huge_ , but you’re going to be perfect.  You’re always perfect.  Your work is incredible and so are you.”

Kurt grins, he can’t help it, and tips his face into the familiar curve of Blaine’s throat, drawing strength and comfort from the scent of his skin and the sound of his nervous heart pounding in the quiet of the limo.  “I love you.”  Nothing will ever be as true as that.

“I am so in love with you,” Blaine breathes out.

“Stay close to me.”

“As if I could ever leave your side.”

Kurt takes another deep breath and another kiss from Blaine before he opens the limo door.

The red carpet waiting for him is nothing like anything he’s experienced before.  It’s not like Cooper’s movie premiers, which are big and loud and bustling and no one cares about him or Blaine until Cooper draws them into the interviews or conversation.  And then the entertainment reporter, who is usually wearing far, far too much makeup, only feigns interest in a relatively unknown designer and a shy composer because, well, they’re Cooper Anderson’s family and  _that_  makes them important.  And this event, this party, is nothing like the award shows they’ve been to.

The Oscars were stressful and nerve-wracking – too many overblown egos in one place and not enough air between them.  Not to mention the added anxiety of Cooper’s Best Actor nomination.  That night had ended with Cooper taking home a heavy golden statue and crashing on Kurt and Blaine’s couch after far, far too many glasses of champagne.  Kurt found Cooper in the morning, sprawled out in his underwear with Pav licking his face and the Oscar wedged in the couch cushions.  The last Tonys had been a fun and lively party.  Blaine had been nominated for Best Original Score for the show he’d been hired for, and even though he hadn’t won (who could have with Alan Menken also nominated?) the night had concluded with Blaine stuttering and blushing his way through an introduction with Mr. Menken and almost crying when his idol had patted him on the back and told him he was the  _next big thing_  in musical theatre.  Kurt had to calm him down by kissing him breathless in a dark, secluded corner at the after party.

But this, this is for him.  The photographers are asking for him.  The reporters are trying to get interviews and sound bites from him, about his work, his livelihood – the very heart and soul of him.  It’s the blood from his fingers and the sweat from his brow and it’s  _his_.  It’s overwhelming and exhilarating and Kurt hopes to remember every fucking moment forever. 

He hardly knows what he says during his seemingly endless interviews; it all goes by in such a rush.  He talks about his collection, how he’s starting with men’s wear but hopes to expand into women’s wear in the next few years.  He talks about starting out at Vogue, about how Carrie found him on the Brooklyn Bridge and offered a young, inexperienced, naïve kid a job that would change his life.  He talks about how he couldn’t have done any of this without the support of his friends and his family – how he couldn’t have done any of it without Blaine.

“I see your husband is here with you tonight,” the reporter says.  She’s from Vogue and Kurt thinks he almost recognizes her, but his mind is all over the place and he can’t remember her name at all.

Kurt glances back over his shoulder at Blaine, who is pink and flushing with nerves and pride and is so incredibly gorgeous in his custom suit, made by Kurt’s own hands, that Kurt can hardly stand it.

“My husband is with me always,” Kurt says with a soft smile meant just for Blaine.  He hates that Blaine is somewhere behind him, almost literally standing in his shadow.  He knows it’s not like that – that Blaine has his own incredible career – but he hates ever feeling like he’s overshadowing his husband.

“So how do you manage to make time for work and family?  I imagine both of your plates are pretty full right now.”

Kurt thinks about all the late nights and early mornings they’ve suffered through over the last few years.  All those times when he was stuck in his loft workspace with his crew, sewing and hemming and tearing his hair out until the sun rose again, and Blaine was buried under sheet music and struggling with a finicky, difficult director until he fell asleep over his desk.  He thinks about canceled dates and weeks when they were both too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed together, curled around each other, desperate for sleep but unwilling to let another minute go without at least holding each other close.

But it was all worth it, in the end.

“It sounds clichéd,” Kurt begins, choosing his words carefully.  No one else needs to know the intimate details of their personal lives. What is his and Blaine’s are theirs alone.  “But we work together.  We support each other.  You can’t put yourself and _your_  needs over your relationship, and we don’t.  He is – well, he’s an incredible partner to have in life and I’m just so lucky that he’s mine.”  Kurt glances back again and he can tell that Blaine is struggling to hide how touched and moved he is.  His hands are clasped in front of him and he’s biting his lower lip.  His eyes are huge and bright and Kurt wishes he could reach back for Blaine’s hand.  He’s never going to get over the feeling of that ring against his skin.

“So do you think you’ll be adding to your family any time soon?”  The reporter asks and she’s got a mischievous grin on her face.

Kurt tilts his head, not understanding the question until suddenly he does.  “Oh!” He can feel the blush creeping up his face.  They haven’t talked about  _that_ , not yet, and he’s a little peeved that someone would ask him such a personal question at an event like this.

“Well, we’re both extraordinarily busy people,” he hedges.  “And besides, we have a dog who probably would get a little jealous.”  Kurt casts another look back at Blaine.  He’s flushed red with embarrassment and looking down at his shoes, but there’s a shy, sweet little grin curving his mouth.

“But it’s quite a relief to know there won’t be any  _surprises_ , if you get my meaning.”  Kurt throws the reporter a sly wink, pleased to see her mouth drop open in stunned shock, before he thanks her and reaches back for Blaine’s hand.  Blaine takes it willingly.

“You said that,” Blaine whispers to him as they move down the carpet to the next set of photographers and reporters.

“I said that,” Kurt nodded and presses a kiss to Blaine’s temple.

“I told you that you’d be perfect tonight.”

Kurt laughs, loud and joyous, and he doesn’t let Blaine move back out of the way when he stops at the next interviewer.  This is his night, sure, but Blaine is part of him, and that makes it kind of his night too.  They’re going to do this together, as they do everything else.


End file.
